Having a similar lead on Lenfell's servants, The Shadow seemed free for uninterrupted pursuit; but he was due for unexpected opposition. Garmath was across the street by the time The Shadow sprang from the front door, and from an arriving car blockers sprang up to cut off The Shadow's course.
Had they been mobsters, like Dwig and his outfit, The Shadow would have dealt them a proper dose of bullets. But these weren't crooks; they were detectives, backed by none other than Inspector Joe Cardona!
GUNS talked, as The Shadow jogged the hands that held them. Recognizing The Shadow, Cardona was shouting orders that the barking revolvers drowned. From the doorway of the house, Lenfell's servants were shouting: 'Get the man in black!' Their cries were louder than Cardona's, after the roar of the guns ended.
Tripping one detective and tumbling him across the other, The Shadow made a dive for darkness, hoping that Cardona wouldn't suddenly change his opinion and decide that, for once, The Shadow might be in the wrong.
Joe didn't decide so, but he wavered, and that was why The Shadow took to the darkness of the side passage leading past Lenfell's, instead of going across the street in chase of Garmath.
Out back, The Shadow found Moe's cab and sprang into it, ordering the speedy hackie to round the block and try to pick up the trail of another car. But the lost time proved costly.
Garmath was gone when Moe made the circuit. The only car that hove into sight was the official one belonging to Commissioner Weston. Sight of that bulky vehicle was cause enough for Moe to veer off in another direction, without awaiting The Shadow's bidding.
The scene that Weston viewed in Lenfell's study was not a great surprise. The commissioner had come to Lenfell's in response to another tip-off. Weston was puzzled merely by the statements of the servants and the detectives. They all insisted that a black-cloaked fighter had fled the house, one who answered far too closely to the known description of The Shadow.
When Cardona listened to those statements, he caught a glare from Weston. Remembering the alibi that he had given The Shadow at Sherbrock's, Cardona was definitely perturbed. With Lenfell's body in plain view, and The Shadow the only intruder on the premises, the cloaked investigator's reputation was encountering a severe strain.
Joe only hoped that Weston would not think back to the Sherbrock case. To forestall such a prospect, Cardona gestured at Lenfell's safe.
'Maybe we'll find the answer there,' he said to Weston. 'Whoever came here might have been after something important. Suppose we see what's inside.'
The idea appealed to Weston and took his full attention, for it wasn't easily accomplished. None of the servants knew the combination, and Weston's guesswork at the dial proved quite unavailing.
Cardona, meanwhile, was consulting a little book that contained the phone number of a specialist in safes.
The man proved to be at home, and he agreed to come right over.
It took the legitimate cracksman fifteen minutes to arrive; another quarter-hour to solve the combination of Lenfell's safe. When the big door came open, Weston poked head and shoulders through and pounced upon the first object that he saw, which happened to be a squarish jewel case.
Opening the box, Weston was too surprised to speak. Cardona had to look over his shoulder to observe what the commissioner had found.
Gleaming from within the box, catching the focused lamplight with radiating streaks, was a giant star sapphire that answered the description of the famous Star of Delhi.
It was little wonder that Weston was surprised. Had Lenfell's body come suddenly to life, it couldn't have amazed the commissioner more. For the Star of Delhi, according to the unimpeachable word of Raymond Walder, the now-dead jeweler, had been divided into the six gems that Walder himself had exhibited in his store!
SUCH astonishment was something that Weston had to share. When he arrived back at the Cobalt Club, he made a call to New Jersey and spoke to his friend Cranston, who answered in a very sleepy tone.
'Another murder, Cranston!' exclaimed Weston. 'With it we have found the Star of Delhi!'
'Good!' was Cranston's reply. 'So you've solved everything. Good work commissioner.'
'But that only increases the mystery,' Weston insisted. 'The Star of Delhi was supposed to be cut up.
But we've found out that it wasn't.'
'Too bad,' responded Cranston. 'I thought it was cut up. Saw it myself, all in pieces. How are you going to find the Star of Delhi when there isn't any Star of Delhi?'
'But we have found it -'
A click interrupted from the other end. Evidently, Cranston was too opinionated to give any credence to Weston's statement. At his end of the phone, the commissioner fumed and muttered a few comments regarding Cranston's obstinacy. He was sorry that he had bothered to call his friend at all.
The Shadow wasn't sorry.
At his end of the line, The Shadow stood with half-closed eyes, picturing the possible results to which the finding of the great sapphire might lead. Then, from the fixed lips of Cranston, came a grim but softly whispered laugh.
It was the laugh of The Shadow, presaging new and curious quests along the trail to strangely hidden crime.
CHAPTER XVI. TRAILS DIVERGE
IRKED by Cranston's indifference to the finding of the great sapphire, and desirous of showing some success on an evening when murder had reigned, Commissioner Weston lost no time in informing the press that the Star of Delhi had been recovered in its original shape.
The news created a vast sensation, and somewhat counteracted public criticism over the matter of six mysterious deaths.
It was the sort of story that the newspapers liked. Every great gem had some curious past history, and the Star of Delhi was no exception. Journalists dug for facts, and produced them.
Once famous as the principal gem in a Hindu rajah's crown, the Star of Delhi had undergone a century of travel and transfer, leaving slaughter and rebellion in its wake. Reaching the possession of a European collector, it had brought him ill luck, including the forced sale of the prized blue jewel.
The jinx was still at work, and the fact that it had cost the lives of six men could be attributed to the greed of all. Each man, it so seemed, had shared a sinister secret - that of six false sapphires which had passed as portions of the Star of Delhi.
How much Walder, the dead jeweler, had known; how deeply Sherbrock, the missing lapidary, was involved, were perplexing questions that bothered the press quite as much as the law.
Certain it was that six smaller gems had been exhibited as parts of the great sapphire, stones so well matched that they must have been of the same origin. The question of the false gems led to a discussion of synthetic sapphires, which offered the only solution to the fraud.
At late breakfast in the quiet of his New Jersey home, Lamont Cranston read the newspaper reports and made comment to Louis Talney, who was seated across the table.
'They seem more stirred by the finding of the Star of Delhi,' said Cranston, 'than by your death, Talney, and those of six others.'
'Five others,' reminded Talney. 'I wasn't killed.'
'Six others,' Cranston corrected. 'You are forgetting your own servant: Glevin. It seems that his body was found, but was mistaken for yours.'
Talney's face showed an expression of relief. As circumstances stood, he preferred to be counted as dead.
'Any other news?' he queried. 'Anything about the man who fled from Lenfell's?'
'You mean The Shadow?' queried Cranston, glancing at the newspaper. 'No. They aren't sure that he's to blame. His case doesn't puzzle me so much, Talney.'
'Why not?'
'He may have gone there investigating the chain of crime. What does surprise me is the matter of the poisoned rings.'
'You're surprised because the police have not suspected them?'
'No.' The Shadow shook his head in a leisurely fashion. His steady tone was Cranston's. 'I can't quite
